


wax seal

by Thegaygumballmachine



Category: VALORANT (Video Game)
Genre: Basically, F/F, Masturbation, inexperienced!sage, inspired by a discussion in the discord or probably several i dont remember anymore, learning how to cope with sexuality!sage, re: that one omen voiceline, religious rhetoric, reyna is too hot and nobody can resist her thanks, sage character study with reyge smut, tags tba when i actually write the smutty part
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29271468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thegaygumballmachine/pseuds/Thegaygumballmachine
Summary: “I admire how pure you are, Sage,” she’d said once, in a discussion about stress relief and ways of coping. She’d let her eyes wander all across Sage’s form, then: “I could never hope to imitate that.”(That’s what demons do, of course - they tempt, and torment, and make one want to forsake their faith. Sage has known all that since she was very young but never did she think it would be so exhilarating to experience. The memory of Reyna’s eyes on her is nothing but delicious, and she's been having these dreams.)
Relationships: Reyna/Sage (VALORANT)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	wax seal

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd and written mostly at like 1am. any mistakes are my babies. i love em. also im in spanish 3 so i feel like i should hopefully know what im doing by now but if any translations are wrong it's because i got a D in spanish 2.
> 
> im sorry to leave u all hanging w this but the smut is on the way i promise!

The unfortunate thing about keeping close quarters with a vampire, with a _demon,_ is that one will generally be driven to sinful acts if given enough time with her.

Sage has an encyclopedic knowledge of sin; there is a catalogue of every action that is forbidden to her written on the inside of her skull, little white scratchmarks between brain and bone. Many of them are to do with war and death and killing, and those laws haunt her when she tries to sleep - not only does she take life in the traditional sense, but she channels it in unnatural ways, in ways that appear holy but that she knows in her heart are not. 

The other majority are to do with sex, and those are somehow more difficult to deal with, because it’s been years that she’s been a killer in the name of the greater good but only in the past two weeks has Reyna turned her entire concept of attraction on its head. That happens at night, too, when she’s alone and unoccupied and can’t help but let her mind wander to thoughts that she isn’t permitted to have. Blasphemous ones. She took an oath and it’s held for twenty years but Reyna shatters her willpower with all these teasing little touches, insinuations that make her burn.

 _“I admire how pure you are, Sage,”_ she’d said once, in a discussion about stress relief and ways of coping. She’d let her eyes wander all across Sage’s form, then: _“I could never hope to imitate that.”_

(That’s what demons do, of course - they tempt, and torment, and make one want to forsake their faith. Sage has known all that since she was very young but never did she think it would be so exhilarating to experience. The memory of Reyna’s eyes on her is nothing but delicious, and she's been having these _dreams_.)

When she finally breaks, it’s unintentional: she’s coming out of one such dream that sees her pinned to a wall with Reyna looming over her, laving her neck in preparation to bite. She whispers to Sage between kisses, tells her how innocent she is, how _cute_ it is. It feels entirely real. Her fingers fumble against her clit in a clumsy, inexperienced way, and she doesn’t even really notice or comprehend it until she’s already half gone. 

By then it’s too much, too good to stop: it feels incredible, unlike anything she’s ever known before, and she gives a halfhearted thought to wrenching her hand away but the act is already committed and pleasure blooms unstoppably from the tips of her now-slick fingers. She isn’t thinking, can’t think of anything but what her mind subconsciously supplies; right now that’s Reyna, biting her earlobe and taking pride in her corruption, and she just suppresses a moan. 

When she comes, she has nothing to compare it to but what she imagines resurrection might feel like. It’s an affirmation of life, a rightness all along her bones, and she is, in this one moment, a creature of instinct. _Too much, too good._ She will need to feel this again, knows it intrinsically. Such is the nature of sin; shuddering overwhelm, a sense of giving in. 

She manages, just barely, to make no sound at all, and slips back into sleep with ease.

\----

“You have done something to me.”

They catch each other in a rarely-travelled hallway, which is best because Sage’s need for discretion is perhaps the highest it’s ever been. Reyna’s not looking at her, but it’s clear that she hears: tension coils up her body and she turns her head to the side, as if to be sure she’d heard correctly.

“ _Explique_ ,” she says, harshly. Sage closes her eyes for a moment and attempts to articulate it without the words themselves. Her dignity is tearing itself to shreds and the embarrassment she feels is only outweighed by her fury.

“I’m having- I have had _vile_ thoughts, inclinations I would _never-_ I know exactly what you are capable of, Reyna, don’t lie to me.”

She doesn't remember the dreams entirely: they're snippets, flashes of color and emotion, but she knows they are sexual and she knows they involve Reyna. Every night this week she's woken up with sticky thighs, thinking in violet, and it's too much to be coincidental. She does not do this, has never done this. 

Reyna stills completely; she turns on a dime, searching Sage’s face, and there’s a bare flicker of anger before an arrogant smirk settles itself instead. She presses Sage back and to the left so she’s up against the nearest wall, and it’s so familiar but she doesn't quite know why. 

“ _Cariño,_ ” she drawls, and Sage can’t look away, can’t help but meet her eyes. “Are you having naughty fantasies about me?”

“Tell me what you did,” Sage grits out, and Reyna grows deathly serious in an instant, but still doesn’t move.

“Your thoughts are your own, little Sage. I only helped them along from the outside.”

She almost sounds offended, like she can’t believe Sage would think that of her, and that’s rich under their history. The countless stories Reyna’s told her of how she made women bend to her will. She wishes it weren’t attractive, wishes her breath didn’t catch at the thought of it, but Reyna sees everything in her right now and lights up again on a lecherous smile. 

“You wish I had done more,” she intuits. “Oh, darling. You wish I _had_ made you this way.”

Her hands grow bold in her excitement; one moves to Sage’s hip and the other fiddles with the fabric of her tunic, deepens the v of her cleavage just slightly. She never breaks eye contact in doing it, and her fingers are so cold while Sage feels almost feverish. 

“I want nothing from you,” says Sage. It’s difficult to say, comes slow and almost lethargic. Reyna laughs, cutting.

“You want _everything_ from me _. El cuerpo nunca miente -_ the body never lies. Yours tells me all I need to know.”

Impossibly, this conversation brings up the same feeling in her as the dreams have. There’s an edge of fear in it now and that’s proper, but she also _aches._ She’s so awake, so aware, and still she aches for it. Reyna explores her body in a very casual way, over her clothing but so unreservedly it feels like everything she touches belongs to her, and Sage _needs_ that. 

“Delilah,” she whispers, and begins to shake.

“Mirai.”

It’s taunting; it could even be called cruel, races through Sage like wildfire. She’s nearing the edge of what she can take and Reyna must be able to tell, must be able to see it.

“I’ll come to you tonight,” she says, and steps away. “If you choose to open the door, you consent to whatever I might do. If you choose not to, we will never speak of this again.”

She turns, and Sage is released; she blinks and sags against the wall, drained of all energy. Stories she was told as a child come back to her, cautionary tales, and a part of her wonders if this might be retribution for her callous disregard of Death. An overabundance of life and temptation.

All she has to do to stop it, to retain her oath and to never feel this way again, is to keep her door closed. 


End file.
